


X-Who

by pascaler23



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Charles-centric, Gen, Set at the beginning of DOFP, Ten shows people they are important, The Doctor is so funny and serious, Timey-Wimey, X-Men: First Class References, You need to have seen Days of Future Past to understand, charles is not a happy bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pascaler23/pseuds/pascaler23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically what would have happen if they had sent the Doctor instead of Logan in the past to stop Raven. Charles and the Doctor first meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	X-Who

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Araelle105](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araelle105/gifts).



> Hello to everybody who may be reading this!  
> This is an OS I wrote because I was having a total writer's block with my principal fanfic and this came out instead. No idea where it came from. (Maybe watching one season of Doctor who per week had an influence on my mind.)  
> I was kind of nervous about writing the Doctor because he is such a famous and unique character but I hope it didn't come out so bad. :)  
> I hope you enjoy it!  
> Feedback always appreciated, good or bad. :)  
> By the way, I'm francophone, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes in the text. I got one of my friend to correct it, but just to be sure. :)

“Professor?” Hank asked with a nervous voice from the doorframe, not wanting to disturb him.

 

“Stop calling me that,” Charles grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose. He bowed his head over his books, his hair falling before his face. His head was hurting. He had been searching information since he woke up, and now it was almost 2 am. His office wasn’t lit well enough, and the on and off lightning coming from the cars outside were bugging him.

 

“It’s- it’s time for your dose,” Hank informed him, taking an unsure step in, showing the syringe in his hands.

 

That made Charles straight up, taking a sharp intake of breath. “Good. That might actually help with my headache.” Hank gave him the hypodermic and shot a quizzical look at all the papers forming an unorganized mess on the deck, photos of odd dressing men all at important evenements, the police boxes he recalled seeing when he was a kid, all sorts of things seeming unrelated. Although, he swallowed his curiosity and backed off. He had learnt some time ago not to Charles ask questions anymore.

 

“Would you bring me back a drink, my friend?” Charles asked as Hank was leaving the room without further words.

 

“Of course,” he answered.

 

Once he was gone, the mind-reader turned in his seat with the syringe in his hand, starting to raised his sleeve and placing the needle aligned with his vein. The sensation of relief he was feeling was immense, like a drug addict in rehab receiving his dose, when Charles heard an odd sound.

 

“Hank?” he asked with a confused voice, turning around. What he saw left him without words, the hypodermic lying forgotten in his fist as he stared in front of him.

 

The blue box, the police box that was apparently linked to the man he had been searching for weeks was appearing in his office. He couldn’t move, astonished by what he was seeing. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he watched something even he couldn’t quite believe. This was his chance.

 

When the strange object seemed to be fully materialized, the door opened and a head peeked from it. The man, the mutant recognized him from the pictures, looked a bit lost for a second, looking around the room until his eyes fixed on Charles.

 

“Charlie boy!” he said with an enthusiastic voice, getting out of the police box and walking toward the mind-reader, hands in pockets and a big smile marking his face. “Blimey, I didn’t expect you to have hair,” he said before bending down and taking Charles’ face in his hands, turning his head as to see him from every angle, the grin still on his face. “And you have a beard! Brilliant! I didn’t know you could grow a beard -I didn’t know you could grow any hair at all. I was expecting you to look less… well… informal, but that’s alright,” he said before taking the syringe still in Charles’ hand and throwing it in the nearest trashcan, missing his shot.

 

“Well, we’ll have to work on that,” he murmured to himself before turning his head toward the mutant again. His smile disappeared a little when he saw the outraged expression on his friend’s face.

 

“Bloody hell! Don’t you have any manners?”

 

The stranger dismissed it with his hand. “Oh, you’ll have to forgive me, I’m a very old man. I forget how to behave. Isn’t this what you call me anyway? Old friend?” He leant himself on the desk, putting on his glasses and starting to read one of the pieces of paper on the work surface before rolling it in a ball and throwing it away too.

 

“Err, about me. Not interesting. Anyway, professor, what are you up to these days except reading foolish articles?”

 

“I am not a professor anymore,” the latter said, regaining his sense and passing an angry hand through his hair while getting up, walking to the other side of the room.

 

The man in the brown suit hissed. “Yeah, you did warn me you were going to be a bit grumpy…”

 

Charles turned around at that, looking at him with incredulous eyes.

 

“What do you mean _I_ told _you_? I’ve never even met you before in my life! This is rubbish.”

 

The man in the suit got up, walking closer to the mutant.

 

“Ah, come on Charlie, you’re cleverer than that! I mean, you read those articles about me, you know, _time-travel_ and all that timey stuff. I’m sure you can figure out how it’s possible.”

 

“You’re the Doctor,” Charles asked, more by principle than because he really needed confirmation.

 

“Yep, that’s me. And you, you are a mutant. And a rather beautiful one, I gotta say.”

 

Charles quirked an eyebrow for a second, but the man didn’t seem to notice, continuing.

 

“I’ve always been fascinated by your race, I have to admit. At first I thought you were aliens- well, one time there was an alien mutant, but that’s another story-, but then I really got to know someone of your kind and I discovered who you were. The most brilliant humans. One time, I even met one of you who had a bunny tail. Can you imagine? A bunny tail!” he said, laughing and gesturing.

 

“So, you know me from the future? You know about us? ” Charles asked.

 

“Coooourse I know. You’re not really the best at keeping it secret, you know. That time with the stadium kind of gave it away.”

 

“What stadium?” Charles asked, a furrow marking his forehead.

 

“Ah, blimey, you don’t know about that yet do you?” the Doctor asked, even if he more seemed to be talking to himself. Then his smile lighted up his face again. “Doesn’t matter, sorry, I do that all the time, forget it.”

 

Charles shook his head in disbelief. This was more impressive than anything he had been confronted to in his life.

 

“Why come to me?” he asked to change the subject. “Did my, err, older self tell you why I wanted to see you?” Charles demanded, hope shining in his voice. It was soon reduced to ash though when he saw the confusion in the Doctor’s face.

 

“What do you mean, ‘why you wanted to see me?’ You only just said you knew about me, that’s all,” he said with a sort of suspicious voice.

 

“I was wondering if you could bring me back. To the beach, so I could stop Erik, stop everything,” he said, thinking of Raven and his legs and everything that he lost that day.

 

The Doctor sighed. “Charles, I can’t,” he said, looking at the floor. “I’m truly sorry, I am, but I can’t change what happened that day. The risk is too high. It could change all the future.” And even though the mind-reader could hear in the man’s voice that he was honest, he still felt the burn of anger raise in his chest.

 

“So what?” he asked through clenched teeth, bitter. “You come over here, out of the blue, with all those powers and calling me your friend, but you won’t help me when you have the chance? Is that it? Is that the ‘great Doctor’ the whole of humanity have been fascinated by for thousands of years?”

 

The latter raised his head, looking eyes to eyes with Charles. He looked pained. “Please, Charles, think about it. I know you understand. I can’t change that and all the great things that are waiting for you, all the amazing things you are going to do. It’s sacred.”

 

Charles let out an unconvinced laugh. “Please, don’t take me for an idiot. Look around you. Look at me. What good can come from that?”

 

The Doctor was about to reply when a shy knock let itself heard at the door.

 

“Charles?” Hank’s unsure voice asked. “I- I have your drink. Are you in there with someone? Am I interrupting?”

 

Never letting his eyes quit his visitor, Charles answered. “Nobody here that matters, Hank, you can come in.”

 

So he did, opening the door and shooting a glance inside. He swallowed his gasp of surprise at the sight in front of him. The Doctor, on the other hand, didn’t.

 

“Noooo! Hank! Look at you!” he said. “Were you shaving or something at that time? Oh, that’s right, the antidote! What a shame! You look almost as cute than when you’re all hairy!”

 

The latter shot a confused glanced at his fellow mutant in the room, not really knowing what to say. Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Don’t mind him, Hank. If you could just put my drink on the table and leave us, please, that would be much appreciated.”

 

“Err- yeah, sure,” he said, executing before leaving. Once he was gone, the Doctor glared at Charles.

 

“You could really treat him better, you know? With everything he does for you.”

 

Charles shrugged, taking a sip of his scotch. “If he weren’t happy here, he’d leave.”

 

“No,” the Doctor said, and Charles was a bit taken back by the intensity of his voice and of his eyes. “He’s not here because he’s happy, he’s here because is he worried for you.”

 

“I don’t need anybody to take care of me.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” the Time-Lord answered, looking at the hypodermic in the can. Charles noticed apparently, because a bit of guilt appeared on his face and he quickly changed the subject.

 

“So, what are you doing squatting my office if it’s not to bug me?”

 

“You sent me.”

 

Charles chuckled again, shaking his head. “I don’t think my older self would inflige me that without a good reason.”

 

“You have one. You sent me so I could help you to prevent the end of the world.”

 

The mutant looked at him with wide unbelieving eyes and was just about to laugh again when the traits of his face distorted in pain.

 

“Arrgh!” he exclaimed, bringing a hand to his forehead and falling on his side, the glass of scotch breaking on the floor.

 

“Charles?!” the Doctor asked, running toward him kneeling next to the wounded man and supporting him with his left arm, analysing him with his screwdriver with his right.

 

“The voices, the voices, they’re all coming back!...” the mutant said, whining and breathing hard.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s ok, it’s ok, you’ll get use to it,” the Doctor said, stroking his hair to calm him.

 

“Give me the antidote! Now!” Charles required.

 

“No, no, listen to me, you can do this. You don’t need it, trust me. You are brilliant, Charles Xavier, I believe in you.”

 

The latter looked up at him, eyes clear for a second, as if he might start to believe him, but then his face closed again.

 

“Bloody hell, your mind, it’s- it’s- it’s… All that knowledge, those possibilities, the loneliness… AH GO AWAY IT HURTS!” he yelled, starting to cry. The Doctor felt his heart tightening in his chest at the sight of this man, this so great man he appreciated so much, in so much pain. But he, more than anybody, knew that having amazing abilities came with suffering.

 

“No, I’m so sorry Charles, but I can’t leave you alone. You need help, and you need to pass through this. You can do it. I know you can. I’ve seen it. Look for yourself, you’ll see.”

 

“I don’t wanna,” Charles murmured, beads of sweat shining on his forehead. “I don’t want your suffering, I don’t want your past!”

 

“No no, Charles,” the Doctor soothed. “Not my past, but your future. Look for your future. Come on. I know you can do it. Just concentrate.”

 

“What’s happening?” Hank asked, storming inside the room. “I heard him yell. What have you done?” he asked, panting from his run, looking at the Doctor with that passionate stare only Hank could have when something really mattered to him.

 

The intruder just shoved him his psychic paper two inches from his face. “I’m a doctor, specialized in mutants’ health and cases. Now help me put him in his chair.”

 

“The paper is blank.”

 

The man in the suit looked at it for a second, but his confusion soon disappeared. “Oh, that’s right. Hank. I should have known. Anyway, boy, where’s his wheelchair? He’s going to need it.”

 

The young scientific looked at his now silent friend lying on the floor for approval. The latter nodded grudgingly and softly like it was physically hurting to do so.

 

“Alright,” Hank said, still not looking too sure but doing as Charles told him to.

 

“Now,” the Doctor said to Charles. “I’m going to take you to Cerebro. I’m going to explain everything to you on our way there. Everything is going to be just fine. Trust me.”

 

*********

 

“Wow, this is one big giant circle!” the Doctor exclaimed, looking up at Cerebro while standing at the edge of the footbridge, his mouth open. “That’s real wibbly wobbly stuff in here. Could be a little more… sonic, though,” he said, taking his screwdriver out of his pocket and analysing the room, turning on himself.

 

“Doctor?” Hank asked to regain his attention.

 

“Right, right, sorry!” the concerned man said with a smile, walking toward the two waiting for him while replacing his sonic in his coat. “It’s just so fascinating here. Only you could have done it Hank,” he said, punching him lightly on the shoulder, making the latter blush. “Let’s do this, allons-y!” he said, shifting his weight on his tiptoes back and forth.

 

Charles wasn’t looking at him. He was staring right in front of him, looking suspiciously at the machine as though it was a danger, ready to attack at any moment. “You know I could just force you to get me up back in your Tardis, as you call it, and bring me back to that day in Cuba, right?”

 

The Doctor looked at the mind-reader, something like disappointment in his eyes. “No, right now you can’t. You don’t believe in yourself enough to do so. And once you do, because you will, you will know it’s not the right thing to do.”

 

Charles looked up at him, wondering how the man could know so much about him. Only Raven and Erik knew him that well to see that, and so, he realized, this Doctor must be very important for him in the future. Charles didn’t let it show.

 

“A young man named Pietro you said?” he asked to avoid answering.

 

“Yep, that’s right. Pietro Maximoff. Biiiiiiit pretentious sometimes, but a good lad.”

 

“Why him? In what is he going to help us?”

 

The Doctor scratched the back of his head. He had known from the beginning that this would be the tricky part. “Weeeeell, he’s sort of supposed to help us break into the Pentagon.”

 

Charles’ features froze for a second, then they hardened, his blue eyes cold as ice. “No. I refuse. I never accepted to do this. Erik belongs where he is. He’s a murderer,” he said, motioning to turn his wheelchair on the other way.

 

“Kennedy was a mutant, too. Erik wasn’t trying to kill him, he was trying to save him. Believe me, I should know, I was there,” the Doctor claimed, but Charles still wasn’t convinced. “Charles, listen to me. Look inside my head- not all of my mind,” the Doctor added when he saw the objection on his friend’s features. “Just specifically one thought. One thought and you’ll understand. I swear.”

 

The mutant fidgeted for a minute, not certain what to do, but there was a look of honesty in the Doctor’s eyes he knew deep in his gut he should listen to. He sighed.

 

“Alright,” he conceded. Feeling his body tense, as if preparing to receive a shock, he opened his mind. What he saw cut his breath. Him and Erik, together. All the mutants left in the world reunited together, fighting the extinction of life on Earth. All the humans, dead, all the nature, the animals… All that was left were the shells of abandoned cities where the carcasses of people piled up in a horrible picture, making him sick. The sentinels… And Erik. Erik standing with him, at last. He was going to change. But the absence of Raven, which the Doctor had explained to him while making their way there, was the real game changer for Charles. It was unacceptable for humanity to end like this. But for her to die alone and tortured? It was intolerable. At least he got the chance to die next to Erik.

 

When he looked up at his strange visitor, his eyes were wet with unshed tears. “Ok. I’ll give it a try.”

 

“Good,” the Doctor answered with a gentle voice.

 

Nervously, hands almost shaking, the professor took the Cerebro helmet, softly blowing on it to remove the dust. The metal felt cold in his hands, unwelcoming. He installed it on his head, closing his eyes. The Doctor watched avidly as silhouettes appeared in the room, like some ghosts or holograms, hovering over their head. Everything was red, an awful red, all sorts of cries of pain and pleas for help reasoning in a maddening way in their ears. He tried to fix it with his screwdriver, but he knew why it didn’t work. It was because of Charles. The latter was gripping the edge of Cerebro, grunting and yelling in pain. The machine exploded in front of them, and then everything was quiet again, only the loud breath of the professor breaking the heavy silence.

 

“I’ll go check the generator,” Hank said, leaving the room half-jogging. Neither of the two other men looked at him, the Doctor staring at the mind-reader, who was avoiding his glance. His face  was wet with cold sweat, hands shaking, continuously licking his lips as he looked down, eyes haggard.

 

“You know it’s not the machinery.”

 

Charles shook his head. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry for you, but I can’t help you.”

 

“No,” the Doctor said, moving in front of the wheelchair and bending toward Charles, supporting himself on the armrests. “Listen to me, Charles Xavier. You are one of the most important people who walked the Earth. And believe me when I say, I’ve met a lot of important people. You are going to change _so many lives_ for the better. Because of you, the mutants won’t be ashamed of who they are. You’ll bring them together. You’re going to give them a family. That has no price, trust me. So don’t you _dare_ say you can’t do it. Because if you can’t, no one can. Just watch yourself be brilliant, Xavier.”

 

Charles looked up at him, eyes glossy. Slowly, the Doctor pressed their foreheads together and took the mind-reader’s face in his hands, showing him everything that was waiting for him. Jean, Logan, Kitty, Bobby, Storm, all the children and adults he was going to touch, going to save. The school, reopened, offering a shelter to all the children that needed it. Some wouldn’t come back from Vietnam, but that wasn’t Charles’ fault. There were so many others to help, and that was his duty. He’d do anything in his power to make that happen. He took a deep intake of breath, like life was returning to him. The Doctor let him go, looking in his eyes, searching for a change. At the same moment, Hank came back in the room.

 

“It should be ok now.”

 

“Are you ready, Charles?” the Gallifreyan asked.

 

“Yes,” he answered, a new spark shining in his eyes.

  
**The end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, i hope you liked it!
> 
> Find me on http://canoe23.tumblr.com :)


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